


Welcome to My World of Truth

by umbralillium



Series: Criminal Bikers [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Gen, PTSD, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:17:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/pseuds/umbralillium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things have changed, since Derek's time with Stiles in prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to My World of Truth

When they were in prison together, Derek used to delight in sneaking up on Stiles. He liked seeing the kid jump and flail; his eyes wide, cheeks flushed, mouth parted. Prison was boring and Derek had to get his kicks somewhere, right? 

The first time he does it after Stiles gets out and Scott brings him into the fold ends a lot differently than he remembers. 

*

Stiles is in the stock room of Hale House, counting cases of alcohol for their next order. This is one of few places that Stiles's OCD really comes through. Every case is placed meticulously and God help anyone who comes in and moves shit around. Stiles might not look like much, but he's a scrappy little cuss who will use any and all tricks he'd learned in prison. 

Derek slows his pace, stepping lightly as he creeps up behind Stiles and leans over his shoulder slightly. "How's our stock?" he asks quietly. 

There's a blur of movement, a sharp noise, and the next thing Derek knows, he's up against some shelves with a boxcutter against his stomach, Stiles's eyes narrowed in anger and a trace of fear. There's no trace of the affable joker Derek has come to know over the last few months. "Back off, you fucker," Stiles snarls through his teeth. 

"Stiles," Derek says quietly, drawing in a sharp breath when the knife presses into his stomach slightly. "It's okay, it's me," he continues. "It's Derek, you're safe." 

Confusion creases Stiles's face, "What?" 

"You're at Hale House, you're safe," Derek answers, keeping his eyes locked with Stiles's. 

Stiles blinks slowly and the knife moves away. "Derek?" 

"I'm here." 

The knife disappears and there's a clatter as Stiles throws it across the room, backing away from Derek quickly to crouch against a cluster of boxes on the floor. "Fuck, I'm sorry." 

Derek approaches cautiously, stopping a few feet away to crouch down, tilting his head to catch Stiles's gaze. "It's fine. I'm sorry, I should've known better than to sneak up on you like that." Stiles's scrubs his fingers through his already disheveled hair, making it stick up in tufts. His hands are shaking. "Why don't you let me finish the inventory, you go upstairs and calm down." 

Stiles's head snaps up and he glares at Derek, furious. "I don't need you to fucking coddle me, Derek," he growls. 

Derek shakes his head, frowning. "I'm not trying to coddle you," he argues. "I'm giving you space to get your head back to rights. Or as right as it gets." 

Stiles laughter is sarcastic, but the tension in his shoulders eases a little in the face of their usual banter. "Gotta be me," Stiles remarks, standing slowly. He pauses for a moment, watching Derek, before nodding. "Thanks, big guy, I owe you one." 

Derek waves him away. "It's fine, my fault, should've known better than to sneak up on you." 

Stiles shrugs and edges past Derek out of the stock room. Once Stiles is gone, Derek looks around at the stacks of boxes and pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. Time to get to work. 

End

**Author's Note:**

> There's no specific event in my head that Stiles flashes back to, just typical after-effects of prison violence.


End file.
